I meant to catch up on all the posts circling my brain from the past week and a half on Tuesday night. I meant to e-mail people I hadn't e-mailed in a while on Tuesday night. I meant to eat my salami and cheese sandwich and talk to other fellow hostal dwellers and breathe the cool, deep air of Quito...and cigarette smoke.
I meant to do a lot of things on Tuesday night.
But instead, I spent the night rushing to the bathroom, throwing up absolutely everywhere. Literally, everywhere. I vomited until I didn't think I could vomit anymore...and then I threw up again. And again. And again.
The drama that ensued when my Cuencan family found out I was sick can hardly be described. I was talking on the phone with mom, while she skyped with Dorothy and the family, while Chio was talking to the hostal on the phone and the hostal workers were talking to me. There was mentioning of an ambulance, of Dorothy coming to get me, but in the end a doctor was sent, courtesy of one of Chio's cousins in Quito. After hearing the account of my past couple days, trip to the jungle, eating of unusual foods, and pushing all around and into my stomach, he told me, in mixed Spanish-English medical jargon that I had acute gastroenteritis from a bacteria in my stomach. He wrote out a recipe of prescriptions, telling me that I could travel back to the states in the morning if and only if I started the medicine immediately.
He also mentioned I shouldn't go to a pharmacy alone, since Quito is not a safe place for anyone, especially a gringa, at night.
So, wonderful. I'm horribly sick, alone in a foreign country, with only $50 cash. I have a flight at 8:30 a.m. and I can't keep my insides in.
Let's just say, I've had better days.
But thankfully, help came in the form of Chio's other cousins, Maria and Fernando. They picked me up at 1:30 am from the hostal, bought my medicine for me, and took me back to their house to sleep better and start my prescriptions. They found me a cheaper cab ride to the airport, and, 12 hours, two more embarrassing stomach removals, and five wheelchair rides later, I was in Raleigh.
And now, sitting on the couch, re-hydrated from an IV and the slow drinking of blue gatorade, but slowly wasting away from not being able, or allowed, to eat anything, I am going to try to fill you in on the final week and a half of my Ecuadorian adventure.
But first, I'm going to sleep.
